Part 17 (1/2)

Before the stay of the cousins at Ashleigh came to an end, Lucy and Bessie had the great pleasure of meeting once more their old teacher, Mrs. Harris, who had come to pay a short visit to her former home.

What a pleasant meeting it was, and with what grateful gladness Mrs.

Harris found out how well her old scholars had followed out their watchword, may easily be imagined; as well as the interest with which the story of poor Nelly's changeful life and steady faith in the Saviour, of whom Miss Preston had first told her, was narrated and heard.

Lucy did not forget to visit Nelly's stepmother, whose circ.u.mstances remained much the same as in former times. She did not seem much gratified by Lucy's praises of Nelly's good conduct. She had always predicted that Nelly would ”come to no good,” and she did not like to have her opinions in such matters proved fallacious. Lucy, however, rather enjoyed dilating upon Nelly's industry and usefulness, that Mrs. Connor might feel the mistake she had made, even in a worldly point of view, by her heartless conduct.

When the heat of the summer was subsiding into the coolness of September, Lucy and Stella prepared to return home,--not, however, without having revisited all the spots which had been the scenes of former excursions, and, in particular, the scene of the ”strawberry picnic,” where every little event of the happy summer afternoon, now so long past, was eagerly recalled.

”And do you remember, Lucy,” asked Stella, ”how hateful I was about poor Nelly, when we discovered her here? Oh, how wicked and heartless I used to be in those days! And I don't believe I should ever have been any better if you hadn't come to live with us!”

Her physical health had been very much benefited by her sojourn in the country, under the kind, motherly care of Mrs. Ford, who had fed her with cream and new milk till she declared she had grown quite fat.

That, however, was only a relative expression. She was still very far from being the plump, blooming Stella of former times.

But the chief benefit she had gained was not to be discerned by the outward eye. It lay deep in her heart--the ”pearl of great price,”

which her wandering spirit had at last sought and found.

XVIII.

_A Farewell Chapter._

”Come near and bless us when we wake.

Ere through the world our way we take, Till in the ocean of Thy love We lose ourselves in heaven above.”

Though Mr. and Mrs. Brooke marked with much delight the improved appearance of their darling Stella, her medical attendant was far from considering the improvement a radical one, and strongly advised that she should be removed to a warmer climate for the winter. On her account, therefore, as well as on that of Sophy, who very much needed change of scene, it was decided that the family should spend the winter months in the south. Stella was anxious that her cousin should accompany them; but just at this time Lucy received a summons--by no means unwelcome--in another direction, in a letter from Mrs. Steele.

Her aunt had been feeling her strength fail very much during the past year, and expressed a very strong desire that her niece should come to her again, for a time at least. Lucy owed her aunt almost a daughter's affection; and as she had not seen her brother Harry for nearly two years, and as her lessons at school must necessarily be discontinued, it seemed the best arrangement that she should accede to Mrs. Steele's request, and go to the West under the escort which had been proposed for her,--that of a friend of Alick who had come eastward for his wife, and was soon to return to his prairie home.

There was some doubt as to what should be done with Nelly during the long absence of all her friends, but an unexpected event which happened previous to Lucy's departure settled that question most satisfactorily. A young market-gardener, who had lately started in business for himself, came to Mr. Brooke's to be paid for vegetables, furnished during the summer. Lucy was sent down to pay him, and was surprised to find Nelly, who had happened to pa.s.s through the hall where he was waiting, staring at him in an unaccountable manner, with an excited look in her dark eyes.

”Miss Lucy,” she said in a trembling undertone, seizing Lucy's dress in her eagerness, ”won't you please ask him his name?”

Lucy, considerably bewildered, did as she desired, and was startled by the answer. ”Richard Connor,” and equally so by the joyful exclamation with which Nelly rushed forward: ”Oh, it's my own brother d.i.c.k!”

It turned out to be really Nelly's long-lost brother. He had followed the rest of his family out to America by the next vessel in which he could procure a pa.s.sage, but had never been able to discover any trace of them. Getting work for a time as he best could, he had at last entered the service of a market-gardener, where he had done so well as to be able in time to begin business on his own account. He could not have recognised his little sister Nelly in the tall, good-looking girl before him; but time had not changed him so materially as to prevent Nelly's loving heart from recognising her only relative, and the moment her eye fell upon him, a thrill of almost certain recognition chained her to the spot.